


your face is like a melody (it won’t leave my head)

by orphan_account



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Character Death, Dark Paradise, Death, Deathfic, Dreams, Heartbreak, Heartbreaking, Love, M/M, Sad, Song - Freeform, Songfic, Suicide, Tissue Warning, True Love, dream - Freeform, lana del rey - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 09:11:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dangerous is fun because without it there’s no chance, no love, no happy ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your face is like a melody (it won’t leave my head)

_This is based off of, and owes the title to, the song "Dark Paradise," by the magnificent Lana Del Rey._

–

Michael spent too much time staring out the window these days. He’d spend his time sitting, staring, and thinking. Sometimes he’d hum. He’d hum the tune that had been inked into his brain until it had been permanent, much like the art he used to spend hours outlining.  
  
“Michael, mate, don’t you think this has been going on long enough?”  
  
Michael didn’t move, and neither did his mouth. It hadn’t moved in a long time.  
  
“Mike, it’s been weeks. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. Har–he wouldn’t want this. You know he wouldn’t,” pleaded Calum, his voice cracking.  
  
“You know he’s right,” muttered Ashton. “Ouch,” he winced, glaring at Luke. “No need to get physical.”  
  
“Sorry, you weren’t helping.”  
  
Michael’s lips quivered, the first emotion he’d shown in weeks. He turned his head, and found Calum kneeling down in front of him, looking him in the eyes.  
“We want to help you, Mikey. We just don’t know how. You need to tell us what you need.”  
  
Michael nodded, a tear sliding down his cheek. He blinked, and it was gone. 

–

They couldn’t spend months on break. Michael knew this, and so seven weeks after the worst day of his life, he rolled out of bed, wincing when his uncovered feet touched the bare floor. He was cold, like he had been every night for seven weeks.  
  
He stood up before turning and looking at his bed. It looked so cold and empty, even though a living, breathing person had lain in it just seconds before. It was something that he knew he should get used to, but never would.  
  
Michael walked into the bathroom, staring hatefully into the mirror. His eyes were sunken, cheeks pale. He looked like death.  
  
“Wish it could be,” he muttered darkly, stuffing his toothbrush into his mouth. He spit, and looked up, eyes closed. He didn’t want to see what he couldn’t be. 

–

“Mike, wake up. We’re almost there.”  
  
“I don’t want to.”  
  
“I’m serious, Mike. If you wake up, we’ll watch The Walking Dead with you.”  
  
“I’m up,” Michael grumbled, eyes snapping open. The rest of the band looked satisfied. He smirked. No matter how hard they tried, they wouldn’t be able to appease the loneliness that threatened to destroy him. No one could compare.  
  
Michael put on a fake smile and got on the van, waving at the fans who chanted his name. He answered questions and played guitar, counting down the minutes until he could leave.  
  
Even though he was so lonely, all of the time, he couldn’t be with other people. Michael knew that wherever he was, Harry was lonely, and that if he had to be living then he should be lonely too.

–

It seemed that these days, Michael was doing a bit better. He seemed happier. It was obvious that Calum took the credit for this “dramatic and underappreciated recovery,” but Michael didn’t care. Whatever this recovery was perceived to be, there was one thing it would never be: real.  
  
Somewhere during these fake nights and fake days, Luke cornered him, before bombarding him with questions.  
  
“How do you do it, mate?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“How do you stay calm? Stay strong?”  
  
“Oh, um, I don’t know.”  
  
“It must be hard though. Like, I’d never be able to do it.”  
  
Michael snorted. He couldn’t do it either. He tried to form some semblance of words, something that could appease the younger guitarist.  
  
“Well…um… I guess I sort of realized that like, if it’s true love, it lives on? Like it’s still there, even if, um, one of the people is, um, gone. You know? Like I still love hi–I still love Harry. Even though he’s not really here.”  
  
Luke nodded, hugging Michael tightly.  
  
“Love you, Mikey.”  
  
“Love you too, Luke.”

–

Michael loved nighttime the most. He was sure many people did, as well, but it was special for him. Nighttime was when he was whole, when he had hope, love, a reason for living. Except, he wasn’t really living. He was more of a ghost these days.  
  
He’d dream he was somewhere, anywhere, with Harry. But these dreams weren’t really dreams, though: they were memories, filled with the smells, sounds, and feelings of reality.  
  
He could feel Harry’s curls tickling his cheek as they cuddled on the couch. He could feel Harry’s gaze on the top of his head, before he turned his head and looked up.  
  
He could feel the adoration in Harry’s eyes. He could feel how Harry’s gaze made him feel warm and safe, like he was home. He’d follow the lines on Harry’s face, making his way to Harry’s eyes, meeting his gaze, dark blue meeting green.  
  
“I love you,” Harry muttered, lips barely moving.  
  
“I love you more,” Michael responded, pressing his lips against Harry’s quickly, feeling Harry’s fingers tightening their hold on him.  
  
“Do you?”  
  
Michael nodded, grinning. “Yep!”  
  
“Well, I’d beg to differ.” Harry smirked, dark eyes gazing at Michael.  
  
“Would you?”  
  
“Yes, I would.”  
  
“By all means, explain your argument,” Michael countered.  
  
“Maybe I’ll just show you,” muttered Harry, forcing Michael up before following. He pushed Michael against the nearest wall, holding his hands above both of their heads. Harry captured Michael’s lips in a kiss, shivering as they both moaned, a need for each other growing through every lingering touch.  
  
Minutes later, they laid naked, wrapped up in each other. Harry moved his mouth next to Michael’s ear, kissing it before whispering, “How’d I do?”  
  
“Wonderfully.”  
  
But then Michael wakes up.

–

Some days were better than others, some days worse. Some days Michael would lock himself in his flat, refusing help to anyone who tried to help. Through all of his faked smiles and laughs, everyone knew that he really wasn’t okay. He may never be okay, but he could get better.  
  
Michael didn’t want to get better, though. Getting better meant getting farther away from Harry, something he wasn’t willing to do. He was young, yeah – maybe a bit too young to feel love, to know what love felt like and when it was real. But he knew love with Harry.  
  
Without Harry, he wasn’t sure what he felt, if he felt. Whatever it was, it wasn’t much of anything at all. Days were a blur, nights a wish that ended too soon. It was a routine of coming together and coming apart, and there wasn’t an end in sight.  
  
But sleeping, sleeping was paradise. And maybe it wasn’t an ideal paradise, or even ideal at all. Maybe it was bad that he never wanted to wake up. Maybe it was bad that all of a sudden he was putting himself in front of the band for the first time in years. Maybe these thoughts of who would replace him in the band were dangerous.  
  
“But dangerous is fun,” Michael would mutter, repeating the words Harry had told him backstage an arena years before. “Dangerous is fun because without it there’s no chance, no love, no happy ending.”

–

Michael counted the days until he could be alone again. The day he was finally alone, he acted differently than normal. He doubted anyone noticed that hugs lasted longer, that he sat closer to the other boys. It was all normal behavior, in a way.  
  
He wrote some letters, and laid them neatly next to him. He grabbed the bottle, and opened it, watching half of the contents spill into his waiting hand.  
  
“Please,” he choked, tears streaming down his face and swallowing down the countless pills. “Please, Harry, please be waiting. I’m so afraid. Please, please be waiting. I don’t want to wake up from this tonight. Please be waiting. I love you.”  
  
His eyes closed, the world going dark. His brain shut down among pleas to wake up, to be okay, to live. It was too late.

**Author's Note:**

> um...happy summer? this is my gift to you all for the beginning of the summer.  
> i'd like to thank @iZouisHeart who requested a oneshot based on this song, and to my friends amanda and maggie for letting me badger them with questions and commentating on my progress. i'd also like to thank starbucks for not kicking me out while i wrote this. most of all, i'd like to thank the beautiful lana del rey for her song and amazing talent :) wheee yay!
> 
> let me know what you think, yeah? love xx


End file.
